Epic Recipe
by Lady Emzebel
Summary: With the tremendously stressful Thanksgiving holiday rolling around, Sanji's pulling out the big guns and it would seem that Zoro recieves the brunt of it. Oneshot crackfic. A very happy Thanksgiving to you all, please enjoy. :D


Title: Epic Recipe

Rating: K+ for swearing.

Pairing: ZoSan (or SanZo, either way).

Timeframe: Post Enies Lobby and Water 7 arc.

Warning: Yaoi and crack. Seriously, am I _capable _of writing anything else? XD

Disclaimer: Nope, One Piece still isn't mine. Probably a good thing.

Happy Thanksgiving Y'all.

-----X3-----

_Of all the treasures situated in the four known Blues—and the one unknown—and the Grandline throughout the eras of civilization, it was the oldest, the greatest, and the most valuable. _

_Were you to compare this legendary prize to that of the barely-new "One Piece", you would find that the former left the latter choking on the triumph-flavoured dust thrown up in its divine wake._

_Empires rose and fell; war raged and peace flourished; great warriors, kings, queens, philosophers and poets, their names forgotten in the vast, unending flow of time; the treasure was witness to it all. An exceedingly strong preservation enchantment saw to that, courtesy of some sorceress way back when._

_Almost since the beginning of time, people everywhere had known of it, had whispered its name with awe and reverence, had worshiped its very existence. Indeed, a certain archaeologist traversing the Grandline could have told you that the ruins of several ancient temples erected in its honour still remained scattered throughout the world's islands. _

_It was said that this treasure was so great that hardened men with flinty hearts broke down and salivated with desire at the mere sight of it. Pious women willingly sold their souls—and bodies—countless times over for cheap recreations of it. Children grew up dreaming of great pilgrimages, navigating across great distances wanting—needing even—to see it just once in their entire lives. _

_Now it was forgotten._

_They say God sent war, death, poverty, and pestilence upon the idolaters. The mighty temple on the Red Line housing the great treasure was struck down by lightning, its priests and priestesses instantaneously fried within its walls. _

_Well, nobody knew what a big no-no it was to build something out of conductive materials on a place so high up then did they?_

_Anyway, pestilence, poverty and death quickly followed, swallowing the world and sending it into the depths of chaos. Centuries passed in darkness until a new civilisation woke anew and started afresh. The treasure, however, was lost, regarded by the descendants of its once-faithful followers as naught but a myth, a nonsensical fancy._

_Only two men thought differently...knew better than that._

_One, an old retired pirate, was living out his days as the head chef of a small, but very popular, sea-faring restaurant. The other, incidentally being the foster-son of the former pirate, was currently sailing on the Grandline, humming jauntily to himself as he...cooked?_

"Oi, ero-cook, whatchya makin'?"

Sanji jerked from his reverie to scowl at his green-haired nakama. The idiot had been sitting in his kitchen for a while now but this was the first time he had ventured to speak.

"What's it look like shit-head? I'm making food."

"Yeah, I know that dumbass, but what kind of food? Doesn't seem familiar to me at all." Sanji looked at him in horror, cigarette dangling precariously from his gaping mouth.

"You mean you _don't know_?" The swordsman was puzzled.

"Whaddaya mean by that? Is there something I _should_ know?" Zoro inwardly panicked as he wondered which of their anniversaries he had accidentally forgotten this time.

"Don't tell me you've never heard of thanksgiving before."

"...Huh?" Sanji threw up his hands in exasperation before turning to wash and peel a mountain of potatoes.

"Uncultured brute! Why I chose you over the beautiful Nami-swan and Robin-chwan is a mystery to me..."

Zoro, having heard this empty complaint before and relieved that he wasn't being chewed out for forgetting something important, tuned out the cook's rant. Instead, he chose to just discreetly stare at Sanji's sexy black-clad ass.

"...and that is why we celebrate thanksgiving," finished Sanji several minutes later.

The swordsman was quick to tear his eyes away from the object of his obsession before Sanji could catch him in the act, and assumed an expression of deliberate indifference. Had the cook found him ogling it would be weeks of doting, sweet talk, and mushiness before Zoro would finally be able to _persuade_ the cook back into his bed again for a steamy romp session in the dead of night.

"Oh yeah? Huh. I see." Sanji turned to him and raised one curly eyebrow.

"You weren't listening to a word I said were you?"

"Uhhh..."

"Thought not." A deep pained sigh slipped past the cook's lips as he moved on to the carrots.

Zoro felt a slight twinge of guilt. He stood and approached his lover from behind, wrapping his arms around the slender waist when he got close enough and nuzzled his nose into soft blonde hair. Sanji tensed when the swordsman kissed the shell of his ear.

"Oi, tell me again. I'll listen this time."

Sanji glared at Zoro from the corner of his visible eye before rolling it dramatically. The larger man took it as a good sign when the cook stubbed out his cigarette and replaced it with another instead of kicking Zoro away and reaming him out with several choice curses.

"Thanksgiving. It's a traditional holiday originating from Cananada—an island in the North Blue—where people get together and celebrate the end of each annual harvest. From Cananada, it spread to other islands when the idea of an excuse for a free all-you-can-eat each year became very appealing to others. Most people just celebrate by eating and drinking a lot, but Cananadians really go the all the way; parties, festivals, games, prayers, the whole shebang."

Zoro took a moment to absorb this.

"Didn't your initial explanation last longer than this?"

Sanji smirked.

"I'm used to simplifying things the second time round for you, you big lug," he teased. Zoro growled at the playful jibe and nipped the shoulder his chin rested on. The cook chuckled.

"So what is all this stuff?" Zoro asked.

"You mean this?" Sanji indicated the many foodstuffs he had scattered throughout the kitchen, all in varying states of preparation.

"Mmmhmm." Zoro pressed his nose against Sanji's warm neck, inhaling the scent of cheap cologne, cigarette smoke, and cooking spices.

"It's the makeup of a traditional Cananada thanksgiving meal. From island to island it differs, sometimes greatly sometimes not, but the essentials are all the same."

Sanji paused to tap his cigarette into a nearby ashtray.

"The shitty geezer comes from Cananada himself; won't cook anything else on thanksgiving day but the traditional thing. Of course, he brought me up to do the same."

"So what are you cooking?"

The blonde smiled. He was always delighted when his partner actually took an interest in the culinary delights...even if it was only to con him into the bedroom.

"Turkey, obviously, that one's an essential; a bread-based stuffing with sage, celery, carrots and onions, also essential; creamy mashed potatoes, mashed turnip, creamed onions, various vegetables, and, finally, cranberry sauce. I've even got some pumpkin pie for dessert; it's not too sweet so even you should enjoy it, marimo."

"Hmmph, I'd rather have _you _for dessert. Now _that,_ I would enjoy."

Sanji smacked his arm good-naturedly.

"Cheeky sod! You really are a total pervert aren't you, damn swordsman?"

"Not as much as you," Zoro retorted. "Besides, you like it." He scooted closer, pressing his chest flush to Sanji's narrow back and rubbing slow sensual circles into the cook's angular hipbones.

"Don't molest me when I'm cooking, asshole."

"You know you want it," mocked the swordsman. Then he paused.

"You know, this meal kinda reminds me of the one you did last Christmas."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, it's pretty much the same. Only with Christmas you gave us gravy. Damn that stuff was..."

He trailed off when he felt Sanji suddenly stiffen in his arms. Before he could react, the cook whipped around, grabbed Zoro's face between his palms and gave him a single, smacking kiss on the lips before pushing him back to hold him at arm's length.

"You fucking angel! I'd almost forgotten!"

Sanji pushed his partner back until Zoro's legs hit one of the chairs around the dining table and fell into it abruptly. Sanji bent at the waist and kissed him again before pulling back with an inane grin plastered to his face.

"Wait here. I have to show you something!"

The cook rushed off in the direction of his room, leaving the swordsman dazed, looking the picture of bemusement. He pulled himself together, however, when the cook returned not seconds later clasping a small ebony box between his fingers.

The box was set on the table between the two men as Sanji pulled up a chair and sat across from Zoro.

The swordsman had never seen the blonde look so excited before and it seemed the mood was infectious; Zoro leaned in curiously, eager to see what his lover was going to show him.

"This," Sanji breathed, "is something Zeff—the shitty geezer—gave to me on my eighteenth birthday, when I 'became a man'. He told me that it was once known to the whole world and revered as something infinitely precious; the greatest treasure known to man."

Zoro gazed at the little box in surprise and awe as Sanji took several calming drags of his dying cigarette.

"You'll find no record of it in history though; according to the old man it's said to be a myth, a fairy tale, just like All Blue."

The cook's eyes sparkled at the mention of his dream before he continued.

"Apparently, it was lost during the end of 'The Great Era of Before', when mankind was almost completely wiped out, and then completely forgotten by all but a few. Someone must have kept it safe though, because one day, maybe a few centuries back or so, a pirate ship carrying several sea-faring cooks ransacked a wealthy seaport and made off with this treasure. They sailed along the Grandline, with it in their possession, spouting stories and tales of wonder where they went. After that, when the cooks on the pirate ship grew old and died, the last remaining one passed it onto his son, who was also a chef. And when that chef became old, he, on his death-bed, bequeathed it to _his _son, also a chef. And then that chef to _his _son, and so and so forth until it finally found its way to Zeff, and then, to me....it's the most precious thing I have in my possession."

"But what is it?" murmured Zoro, completely enchanted with a story for the first time in his life. Sanji stubbed out his cigarette and looked the swordsman dead in the eye.

"This."

With that, the cook carefully unfastened the gold catch on the little black box and opened the lid slowly, worshipfully. Zoro felt cool sweat break out on his forehead with anticipation and would have sworn Sanji was doing it only to wind him up had the cook not been holding his breath, just as the swordsman himself was.

When Sanji pulled out an old, weathered piece of parchment, Zoro was still gazing at the box, still awaiting the spectacular treasure of which he had been told. When Sanji did nothing further, he looked up at the blonde in puzzlement.

"So...uh...where's the treasure?"

The cook gaped at him like he'd grown two extra heads, and Zoro had to mentally assure himself that it wasn't because he was subconsciously performing his Asura sword technique without him realising.

"Well duh, _this _is the treasure dumbass."

The swordsman was sure he felt several of his brain cells crash into a raging inferno of death when his lover indicated the worn parchment in his hand. The next moment he felt ashamed; after all, their captain was the one who cherished a second-hand straw hat. Next to that, a piece of paper didn't seem all that crazy.

"What's written on it?" The cook turned his back to Zoro and held up the parchment so it was dramatically highlighted by the kitchen's glowing electric lamps.

"A recipe." Sanji whispered.

"A recipe?"

"Indeed. A recipe. A recipe only to be brought out on thanksgiving."

Sanji lowered his arms and held the greatly yellowed parchment before him as fervently as he might a lover's note. Furthermore, he caressed its rough edges tenderly and gazed at it in a manner most disturbing.

"Yes..." Sanji muttered reverently, almost manically.

"This...this will be my greatest creation. And you...," he whipped round to poke the swordsman directly between his eyes with a single digit, "you will be the first to taste it."

Deep in his melodrama, Sanji leapt onto the table and struck a brave-warrior pose much like the ones Usopp frequently modeled; the only difference was that he clasped his precious recipe tight to his chest.

Zoro watched him with growing alarm.

"Yes, Zoro! You! It is you who will finally taste the legendary taste after all these years."

Sanji thudded his right fist into his left palm signifying certain finality, cradling the recipe in the crook of his arm like a newborn baby.

"You, Zoro, will be the first to sample my culinary masterpiece! Indeed, the very first to sample my ORGASMIC GRAVY!"

A pregnant pause ensued.

"Orgasmic...gravy? What the...?" Zoro repeated, sure as hell this time that his brain was sliding out of his ears.

The cook, still stood atop the table gazing off into the distance, didn't appear to have heard him. His expression was dreamy; cheeks flushed feverishly and eyes shining brightly as his breath came in short, aroused little pants.

Zoro stared at him for a few seconds more with widened eyes before grinning lecherously. He just couldn't pass this up.

"So....um...is that a metaphor for something?"

Oh how the dull thud reverberated across the Thousand Sunny when Zoro's head was kicked through the galley wall.

-----X3-----

Oh, if only my family knew what a crack-whore I am. *sings*

"They're tryin' ta make me go to rehab, but I said no, no, nooo."

Anyhoo, with the Canadian Thanksgiving holiday coming up this next Monday, I was sitting at the lunch table in school amongst my chummies when the conversation suddenly turned to all the yummy food that would be eaten during the long weekend. This fic was directly inspired by the lines: "Hey Mandy, you've tried my Dad's orgasmic gravy, right?" "...is that a metaphor for something."

Damn you Greg, you lovable perv, you! *shakes fist*


End file.
